“While you were gone, a development arose,” the Alchemist explained to Argrave as he stared up at King Norman, watching for any movement. “Your enemy took some inspiration from you. They’ve created a network of spirits around the exit of Sandelabara. We won’t be able to teleport outside without first dismantling it… or more simply moving past it.”
“I made that defensive network—not Argrave,” Onychinusa spoke up, annoyed. “But he’s right. If we teleport beyond Sandelabara, we’ll be whisked away to precisely where they want us to be. I have no doubt an ambush is in wait.”
“We can maneuver within the bounds of this plane,” Castro interjected. “I believe that gives us ample opportunity to escape.”
“All of you should take Sophia, get to a safe location. But I’m not leaving until this man is dead in the ground. Orion—you’ll stay here with me, we’ll fight together. Anneliese—you have to take Sophia. Alchemist—give Orion a divine weapon, and then protect Sophia like your life depends on it.”
The Alchemist reached into himself, producing a club of bone shaped like a crescent moon. He tossed it at Orion.
“There would be no greater honor than to fight at your side, Your Majesty.” Orion said smoothly as he caught the divine weapon, holding it in hand.
Anneliese called out, “Argrave, this is—"
King Norman’s patience grew thin. He dropped off the side of the castle, braced his feet against the wall, and then leapt for them with terrifying speed. But long before Norman came, Argrave had already teleported away to stand by Sophia incased in the ward.
“I’m back, Sophia. A few problems have come up. I’m going to need to give you to someone else. I trust these people with my life—they’ll keep you safe.”
Castro and Onychinusa cast powerful magic, lighting and fire respectively, yet both forces vanished when they came in contact with the white figures protecting Norman. Argrave shook his head upon seeing that. It would seem the king had inherited the magic immunity bestowed by the Heralds.
“My daddy’s trying to stop you,” Sophia stated matter-of-factly, voice trembling. She hadn’t taken off the blindfold, just as Argrave instructed.
As Argrave watched, Orion rushed at King Norman. He tried to tackle the man, and looked stunned when Norman resisted heartily with a smile on the face. He saw Norman speak when Orion stepped away. He was somewhat grateful Norman like to play with his food, if only because it gave Argrave time.
Argrave clenched his fist and said, “…yes, that’s right. But you don’t need to be worried about that anymore.”
Sophia fumbled out blindly and grabbed his leg. “I don’t want you to die, Argwave.”
“Hey…” Argrave patted her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m most worried about you. I can do anything, but you’re just a little girl. I’ll be giving you to my wife—she’ll take great care of you until I get back.”
“Nobody thinks they’ll die,” Sophia insisted, removing the blindfold as she teared up. “But they always do. Even Gwiffin. Mister Argwave… run away. I’ll stop him.”
“Sorry to break it to you, kid, but your dad isn’t so tough.” Argrave lifted up Sophia, dispelling the ward. “I could take care of him by myself. Anne,” he called out. “Keep her safe. I’ll come find you—don’t come find me.”
Anneliese walked up to Argrave and received Sophia carefully. He looked into her amber eyes—there was concern, yes, but resolve and trust as strong as he’d ever seen. King Norman was blissfully unaware of what would happen next, evidently. Anneliese, Melanie, Castro, Onychinusa, and the Alchemist teleported away using [Worldstrider], heading into Sandelabara for safety.
“Alright, Orion. It’s you and me.” Argrave studied the floating white figures around Norman. He was relieved to see they faded by the second—they weren’t properly tethered to Norman. The first bit would be an endurance game until magic could again harm him. But past experience told him one thing—they weren’t immune to illusion magic. That silver-tongued priestess hadn’t seen through his invisibility.
“They’re gone,” Norman said as Orion backed up to stand side-by-side with Argrave. “Our company left subtly. Luckily, my gluttony is uppity. To try this… to take my spawn from under my nose… my, my. One by one, you’ll come under my thumb. I’ll skin you all for a meal worth its weight in gold.”
“Illusion magic on something other than him works on fine,” Argrave conveyed, ignoring his mad ramblings. “I’ll cast a spell on you, then distract—you ambush. Be aware—he’s about as strong as Mozzahr was, maybe a little more. Aim for the eyes. Anything else is a waste of a hit.”
Argrave cast a B-rank illusion spell with one of his blood echoes—[Unknowable]. It wasn’t quite as sophisticated as the A-rank [Chameleon], but it was a partial invisibility he was sure would work on Norman that allowed for freedom of movement. And more importantly, the non-magical Orion would still be able to see his limbs.
As Norman studied where Orion had been in wonder, Argrave walked closer until he was about five feet away from the king. “Thanks for letting us plan. Very gracious of you.”
Norman tilted his head like Argrave was adorable. “Plan away. It’s never changed anything before.”
Argrave laughed. “It has. You just don’t know about it.”
Norman narrowed his eyes. Then, even to Argrave’s surprise, Orion lunged forth and slammed Norman’s face with the club. The king was caught off guard and staggered backward, but the moment he got his footing, gave one look at Argrave and charged.
An all-too-familiar dance began. Argrave teleported about the courtyard, dodging the king with the use of his blood echoes. It was infinitely easier with Orion’s presence. The man was a trained fighter veritably strong enough to compress coal into diamonds with his bare hands. He scored three incredibly solid blows to Norman’s face, but the king endured them incredibly well. His broken nose quickly corrected, his crushed eye reformed enough for him to regain sight… it was clear Argrave would need to use [Burst], but that was prevented by the white figures protecting him. They faded away second by second, to Argrave’s glee, and he felt the time was fast-approaching for Good King Norman to bite the dust once more.
Then, the white figures changed their strategy. Rather than defend Good King Norman, two of them left his side. Argrave watched as one approached Orion—another headed for one of his blood echoes. Orion’s invisibility faded immediately, and Argrave felt his blood echo’s presence immediately vanish the moment the white figure came near it.
“Ah… I see it now,” the king shouted joyfully. “You never truly ran!”
Norman rushed at Orion, swinging his fist in a backhand. Orion barely dodged the first, yet the king threw a straight jab just after. Reeling backward, Orion slammed the crescent-moon club into the king’s punch. Blood burst out—but blood was never anything to stop King Norman. He swatted the club aside, and it flew out into the courtyard. Norman grabbed Orion’s head with both hands, and his indomitable brother actually grimaced in pain as the king squeezed. Orion slammed his fist into Norman’s face countless times, bloodying it—but no injury could make Norman yield.
Argrave’s instinct kicked in. Though the white figure was attempting to erase Argrave’s blood echoes, he deftly maneuvered them with a concentrated mind. He placed one near Norman, and the other near the discarded club. He teleported near, seized the club, then teleported to Norman. He swung the club as hard as he could slammed it upon Norman’s head. Norman released one hand from Orion, grasping for Argrave, but Argrave teleported no more than a half foot backward. Norman grasped air, and Argrave again slammed the club into his face. Orion planted both feet against Norman and kicked as hard as he could, freeing himself from the tyrant’s grasp.
Argrave grabbed Orion’s hand and used [Worldstrider]. It was costly, but only with [Worldstrider] could Argrave teleport more than just himself. The two of them came to stand far away from Norman on the opposite side of the courtyard. The king jaunted forth merrily, arms held wide. Argrave studied him, keeping [Minor Truesight] alive and alert.
“Where is that plan helping you now?” The king smiled broadly. “You cannot injure perfection. You may be someone where you came from—but here, in Good King Norman’s domain, you are a pebble, not a rebel.”
“I’m really scared,” Argrave said, holding Orion from moving. “What are you planning to do to me?”
“Ah…” Norman walked closer slowly. “I could talk about it for hours, my little jezebel, my sweet darling.”
“Please do,” Argrave nodded, restraining Orion even as he wished desperately to advance. “What terrible fate awaits me?”
“Sophia, who you sought to save, shall watch it all,” Norman declared. “As a matter of fact… I do believe you’ll be her first kill. I will maim you, day by day, hour by hour… and your only option for freedom shall be by her hands. You will beg for death. And sweet, fragile Sophia will be the only one I will allow to grant it to you. She won’t kill you. For days, weeks, months, years, she’ll refuse. And when you still live, your very life itself turned to pain unending, you will see why I hate her innocence.”
Argrave sighed and shook his head. “I really do know you too well.”
As Norman had been talking, Argrave watched the white figures protecting him finally dissipated to nothing. Argrave sent out a blood echo, its palm outstretched, and cast [Burst] moments before teleporting to the spot. Norman wasn’t used to such ambushes from Argrave, and so did not defend as ably as he should have. A blood-infused [Burst] wracked Good King Norman right in the face, and he flew backwards.
When the aftermath of the blast faded, Argrave saw the king lying there. He was every bit as damaged as Argrave recalled him being from the first attack of that kind. Argrave clenched the club tightly in hand, walking close with the resolve to do as he’d done once before. He would bludgeon Good King Norman to death himself. Sophia was owed that much, especially after hearing that sickening plan the king had in mind for her.
“A splendid display, King Argrave.”
Argrave whipped his head around to where the voice came from. He saw a head sticking up out of the shadows. The man had dark skin, and braided hair that flowed like inky darkness. Argrave placed a name at once—Traugott. Argrave didn’t hesitate to cast the lightning-fast [Arc Whips]. A sound like a buzzsaw filled the courtyard as arcs of electricity buffeted the spot Traugott was, but when the spell faded, Argrave saw no corpse.
“You’re a little more like Orion that I thought. He’d also prefer to hit me than first talk to me.”
Argrave turned his head again. Traugott crouched beside Good King Norman, who was barely moving with most of his face gone.
“I’ve heard you’re generous, Argrave. Could I please have this man Norman, and his daughter Sophia?” Traugott tilted his head. “These people interest me a great deal, you understand. I’d like to research them.”
“Who said I was generous? Norman’s a dead man. Sophia’s under my protection.” Argrave stepped forward steadily. “Back away.”
“I’m sorry, but I’d like him alive,” Traugott shook his head. “And I need Sophia. She’s even more paramount for me. So… I’m afraid we’ll have to come to arms. I consider myself a pacifist, but sometimes people just won’t give me what I want without violence. It’s rather saddening. I hoped we could talk, as fellow scholars.”
Argrave watched as Traugott’s shadow danced around him, growing larger. Recognizing what he intended, Argrave sent out his blood echo and teleported forth. Traugott was able to move away deeper into the Shadowlands and avoid his grasp, but then Argrave hadn’t intended to target Traugott to begin with. He cast [Burst] once again into Good King Norman’s face.
“No!” Traugott shouted. “Such a waste wi—"
Argrave saw an explosion of gore just as the two faded into the Shadowlands. Argrave rose to his feet, bitter triumph in his heart. Good King Norman the Dead lived up to his title, once again. Argrave was certain he saw his head cave in, his soft brain exposed to the full brunt of a blood-infused [Burst]. Norman was dead, despite Traugott’s efforts to preserve his life.
Argrave slammed the club he still held into the now-empty ground, muttering, “How’s that, you twat?”
“Your Majesty…” Orion said, staring at Argrave with some degree of awe writ on his face. “He did have a point.”
“And what point was that?” Argrave asked incredulously.
“That was a splendid display. You fought well enough that the pathetic god of war Sataistador must be trembling in his boots.” He pounded his chest. “You saved my worthless life, Your Majesty.”
“You’re not worthless. And you’ve saved mine enough,” Argrave said dismissively. “Let’s save the talk. Norman’s dead. Not even he can survive with soup for brains, I think. But Traugott and Dario’s golems both are going to be coming after Sophia, and if I were to guess… Traugott’s going to unleash Shadowlanders upon Sandelabara. He’ll try and seize Sophia in the chaos.” Argrave held out the club to Orion.
Orion took the club from Argrave. “Shadowlanders… meaning more of that thing we faced at Dirracha, Your Majesty?”
Argrave nodded. “We have the small fortune of our primary objective being escape. But make no mistake—we’re on an anvil, with a hammer crashing down from above.”
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